Zoology
by Twin Sun Leader
Summary: Crowley was very proud of zoos. (Minor Harry Potter x-over.)


_To celebrate my millionth of a percent of a Hugo Award, here is the translation of a silly Good Omen fic I actually wrote in 2009 and still like a lot._  
_Have fun reading, all comments are always welcome!_

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**Zoology**

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Crowley was very proud of zoos.  
Locking-up critters in too small cages and making harassed parents dragged by their offspring pay to look at them had turned out to be a perfect way to ensure marital disputes, spoiled kids, and life-long phobias after a visit to the insect pavilion or the reptile wing. Not to mention the underlying wild animal trafficking, the pissed-off ecological activist protests and of course the occasional runaway lion who would eat one or two unlucky visitors.  
No, really, zoos had been a brilliant idea. Simple, efficient, and he only had to launch it before sitting back and waiting for the humans to take it over and make it worse.  
Well, until Aziraphale had chipped in with ridiculous saccharine ideas like animal preserves, species protection, education of the masses, duplication of the animals habitat and love of all creatures, however crawly or ugly. Uhg.  
After that Crowley had left the humans deal with the zoos on their own, but he still enjoyed dropping by from time to time to see if a tiger or a venomous snake felt up for a quick jaunt out.  
Also, to be totally honest (which he obviously wasn't), it was kind of relaxing to return to your roots now and again. The good old times, and all that.

The vivarium was dark and comfortably warm*, the humidity level in the air was almost perfect, but the return to his roots was turning out a bit disappointing: Bruno the boa inhabiting the place had abyssal conversation skills. And so, when the boys came in the room, Crowley was bored to death and eager for some fun.  
Opening a reptilian eye, he watched the brats cheer on the father of one of them to bang on the window pane of the vivarium, until they grew tired of it and went on to be pests elsewhere. Crowley was making his mind between a claustrophobia crisis, a cobra jailbreak or tying up their shoelace together for a laugh when a scrawny brown-haired child came to press his nose against the glass to watch him sadly.  
Ho, thissss could work, too…

While he was in the midst of explaining to the kid with the reptile equivalent of sign language that Bruno was from Brazil, the two previous brats came back, speaking loudly and roughing up Crowley's conversation partner with such vigor than the biggest one sent him to the floor.  
The timing was perfect** and a small demonic miracle to get rid of the pane later, Crowley was jubilantly slithering between the legs of the fleeing, panicked humans, pushing his professional pride as far as slipping his head in one or two pants legs to maliciously thickles a few calves with his tongue.***  
He rounded his act by crawling by the head of the scrawny child still on the floor and hissing "Thanksss, amigo", before undulating toward the exit with the feeling of a job well done. Between the scandal and the inevitable upcoming flood of complaints, the hunt for the runaway snake that would make them evacuate the zoo before anyone realized that the real boa was still sleeping in his vivarium, and the many days off ruined, it really was his favorite kind of job: one stone, many birds.  
And it was not even counting the child he had talked to… With some luck the kid had been so impressed he would turn gothic, or would end up convinced he could talk to snakes… Who knew, he would maybe get in his head he had magic powers and would end up as a cult leader!  
Crowley laughed to himself and straightened his sunglasses. It was unlikely, but you never knew what would stick after all.  
He left the place whistling a jaunty tune, hands in his pockets, toward the parking where the Bentley was waiting for him, parked across two handicapped spots.  
Truly, he was really fond of zoos.

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* Crowley had very sensitive scales.  
** Crowley also had a showman's flair.  
*** An act he would immediately come to regret once back in human form, and that he would conscientiously wash away with the Angel and some excellent bottles of Château Latour 1981.


End file.
